


my heart's buried in the junkyard

by lolainslackss



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolainslackss/pseuds/lolainslackss
Summary: Andrew ferries the souls of the dead to the afterlife and has a quota to fill.Neil is a recently deceased runaway and a marked man even in death.They have a long walk ahead of them.Afterlife AU.





	my heart's buried in the junkyard

**Author's Note:**

> tfw you wanna write an andreil good place au but you just end up writing something really weird instead...

As Neil Josten woke up, he became keenly aware of three things: he was lying on the ground, it was dark out, and he was alone. He moved to sit up, crushing gravel into his palms in the process. It was sore, and so were his muscles, he found, as he got to his feet. They ached like he'd been running uphill, and maybe he had been. He couldn't remember. His mind was like the night: mist-ridden, silent.

This was when he became keenly aware of just one more thing: he was being watched.

"Took you long enough," Said a voice from his left. Leaning against the wall was a young man. He was short, blond, and scowling. He fiddled around with a black tablet before tucking it into the front pocket of his hoodie.

"Come on," He said to Neil, nodding his head towards the end of the street.

"Come on what?" Neil responded, too confused to be exasperated, "Who are you? Where are we?"

The man sighed, as if he'd heard these questions hundreds of times over. Neil looked at him carefully. He was sure he had never seen him before in his life, but maybe he had and he just couldn't remember. He tried to think back to the last thing he _could_ remember and got nothing.

"Do I know you?" He tried instead.

"No," Was the reply, "Look, just to keep you up to speed, I'll fill you in: you're dead,"

"Dead?" Neil repeated blankly, "What do you mean, dead?"

"Are you being deliberately obtuse?" The man retorted.

"Dead," Neil said again, and he supposed it _kind of_ made sense. He'd spent his whole life running away from a death sentence that he knew would catch up with him eventually. He gave himself a quick once over, checking for a sign, a fatal wound. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"How?" He asked.

The man didn't reply.

"Who are you?"

"Andrew,"

"Right, but _who_ are you?"

"I ferry the souls of the dead to the afterlife. It's about as dull as it sounds, especially when they all wake up with no clue and waste time asking stupid questions instead of walking,"

"Where are we supposed to be walking to?"

"The other place," Andrew replied vaguely.

"That's specific," Neil said drily, trailing after Andrew.

Andrew shrugged, and then his expression shifted. He stared at Neil as if he were seeing him for the first time. Neil looked down, checked to see if his scars were all covered. They were.

"That's new," Andrew muttered, walking the two steps it took to close the distance between them.

Neil tracked Andrew's gaze and realised he was staring at Neil's neck. Neil instinctively reached out to cover it.

"What is it?" Neil asked, "Are you a vampire?"

Andrew huffed a breath through his nose, as if he were exasperated by Neil's stupidity. Neil thought it was a fair question.

"You're a marked man," Andrew explained, "You have targets creeping up your neck,"

"What do you mean, targets?" Neil asked, keeping his hand on his neck.

"Tiny spots, glowing red. That means someone's probably going to be looking for you once they hear the news you're dead. That means this walk just got twice as difficult. Lucky for you, I have my knife," Andrew told him.

"What do you care?" Neil questioned him.

"I have a quota to fill," Andrew said, taking a step back, "Speaking of which, we should get going,"

With that, Andrew started heading down the street. Neil had no choice but to follow him. As they walked, Neil took the chance to take in his surroundings. It looked like they were in an abandoned neighbourhood. The houses were empty, and the street was quiet. The entire world felt dark and hushed. The only light came from the flickering, neon blue shine of the streetlights, and the violet glow that clung to the mists that rose from the sidewalk.

"So how come you have to do this?"

"The ferrying the souls of the dead thing?"

"Yeah,"

"It's a punishment," Andrew said, "Kind of like community service,"

"For what?"

"I died doing a bad thing for a good reason,"

To Neil, he sounded like he was repeating someone else's words.

"How did you die?"

"Car accident," Andrew reply was clipped, and he pointedly lit up a cigarette as if to end their conversation.

"At least they let you smoke cigarettes in heaven," Neil muttered.

"This isn't heaven," Andrew told Neil, passing him the lit cigarette. Neil didn't really understand the gesture but took it anyway. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a cigarette. The smoke was warm and made his body feel like liquid, like light.

"You really don't know how I died?"

"How do _you_ think you died?"

"If I had to guess, it'd probably be because nobody was watching my back once the past caught up with me,"

"How tragic,"

Neil shrugged and they continued walking on in silence. The street had stretched on forever, and they finally got to a tunnel entrance. Strips of neon green ran along the ceiling. Somewhere, water was dripping. As they walked further inside, Neil realised it was raining inside the tunnel. Andrew grimaced and pulled his hood up tight around his face so that tufts of white-blond hair poked out from the sides. The lights refracted in the rain drops, tinting the world emerald green. As beautiful as it was, Neil hoped they'd reach the end of the tunnel soon. His running shoes were starting to soak through.

Andrew turned to look at Neil, probably to make sure he was still following, and his eyes were once again drawn to the targets that were apparently alight on Neil's neck.

"Did you make a lot of people angry while you were alive?" He asked, and Neil couldn't tell if he was teasing or if he were genuinely curious.

"Maybe," Neil answered truthfully, "But this is probably because people who tried to kill me usually ended up dead themselves,"

Andrew hummed, bored. He'd probably heard all kinds of stories like Neil's before. Neil kept going however, telling him about how his father and his people were killed in a raid. He'd been their captive at the time. They burnt patterns into his flesh, threatened to cripple him, to peel the muscles away from his calf in thin, pink strips. He'd thought he was going to die then, before the FBI burst in. Somehow, he hadn't. It should have been a relief, but it transpired his father wasn't the head of the pack after all. Being hunted, and with nowhere to go, Neil stayed a runaway. He tried to remember the last place he'd stayed, but his memory was still foggy.

As Neil came to the end of his story, they came to the end of the tunnel. A gas station and a diner were in front of them. Alight, but seemingly empty. Neil shook the rain from his hair as Andrew pulled the black tablet out of his hoodie and started tapping at the screen.

"Let's stop off in here," Andrew said eventually, nodding towards the gas station, "We can get supplies,"

"You still need to eat in hell?" Neil asked.

"This isn't hell," Andrew replied, walking towards the entrance.

The gas station lights were yellow and blinding. As Andrew walked up and down the aisles, grabbing whatever snacks he fancied, Neil's attention was pulled to the noticeboard on the wall.

The entire thing was covered with multiple copies of the same poster. Across the bottom were the words Wanted: Dead or Alive, with the or Alive part crossed out. And above them, Neil's face. It was disorientating, like a hallucination. He pointed to them wordlessly when Andrew walked up beside him.

"This place is like that," Andrew said as he saw the posters, "Brings things into existence,"

Neil's thoughts were drawn to the targets on his neck.

"Will they find me?" He asked eventually, "The ones who are targeting me? Are they here, now, in this place, with us?"

"If they're still dwelling on life, they've probably been here a long time," Andrew said with a shrug, "All that resentment, the need for revenge - it can trap you,"

Neil reached out and rested his hand on the Wanted poster.

"They'll be here," Andrew said more definitively, "Waiting in the void, warping"

"Like ghosts?" Neil wondered aloud, a chill rocketing down his spine.

"Something like that," Andrew answered, "We should go,"

"Will we get there? To the... _place_?" Neil gestured vaguely with his hands.

"I have a quota to meet,"

"Is that a yes?"

"You ask a lot of questions,"

Neil followed Andrew outside. Andrew walked through the gas station lot and kicked a gas pump on his way past it. Neil raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"This would be so much easier if they'd just give me a car," Andrew bit out. Neil found his response funny, for some reason. As he caught up to Andrew, Andrew pressed a power bar into Neil's hands. Then Andrew unwrapped a piece of candy and popped it into his mouth.

They ate and walked in silence. They passed chain link fences that cut up the dark indigo of the starless night sky. They passed street signs that pointed to nowhere. Occasionally music would flutter towards them through the trees.

Around the time Neil assumed the sun would come up, the sky shifted, turning like a kaleidoscope, before settling back to black. Neil wondered what was out there, waiting in the shadows and the mist. Would it be his father? Would he catch him, torture him? Did it hurt as much when you were already dead?

"We rest here," Andrew said suddenly, stopping outside of an apparently random house.

"Okay," Neil said, although he didn't feel sleepy at all.

The house creaked as they moved through it. It was empty, but for the dust. Upstairs were a couple of old mattresses, ragged blankets. Neil had slept in worse places during his lifetime. Andrew curled up on one and Neil on another.

"Thank you," Neil found himself saying, if only to fill the silence, "For walking with me, leading the way"

"It's my job," Andrew countered, rolling over onto his side, "And I'm not walking with _you_. You are walking with me,"

"Still," Neil went on, before trailing off. He didn't know much about Andrew, but he felt grateful towards him. He'd never had anyone on his side, never had anyone there to share the journey with. He had spent his whole life evading people, deceiving people, hiding truths. Sharing this walk with Andrew in death, and telling him about his father and his people, it made him feel see-through. It made him feel vulnerable and strengthened all at once.

Andrew turned to face him, his eyes liquid gold, flares in the dark.

"You were killed my a man named Ichirou Moriyama," Andrew said plainly.

Neil opened his mouth to speak but Andrew cut him off.

"He put a bullet in your head when he realised you couldn't be of use to him," Andrew continued, "Now you know,"

Neil heard a laugh, hysterical and sharp, leave his mouth.

Andrew held his tablet up. The screen was black, glossy.

"This tells me your name," Andrew told Neil, "But you never told me yourself,"

"The last person I remember being was Neil Josten," Neil managed to say, "I didn't want him to die,"

"Everybody dies, Neil," Andrew responded, and Neil's name sounded shiny and new in Andrew's mouth.

"Will they make me do this too?"

"Ferry souls through the void to the other place?"

"Yeah? I did bad things too,"

"Join the club," Andrew replied with a shrug, "Who knows what'll happen once you get there,"

Neil didn't feel done with asking questions, but Andrew was starting to drift off, hands tucked behind his head, blanket tucked under his chin. The crescent moon was the only source of light, and it illuminated the dark room. It was silvery, lilac, and it made Andrew's hair glow.

The last thing Neil remembered thinking before he fell asleep was that it was a pretty colour, Andrew's hair, shining in the light of the moon.

When they awoke, the moon was full, and the sky was a sea of dark purple fire. The streetlights were on again, though they flickered and trembled like a butterfly trapped in a jar. It was as dizzying as the first time he woke up and Neil felt slightly queasy. As he rolled onto his side, his stomach churned.

"The nausea will wear off eventually," Andrew said.

Andrew was already up, by the window, morning cigarette alight and burning fast. Neil watched as the ash spilled onto the wooden slats of the floor.

"Death is an adjustment," Andrew added. Neil tossed the blankets aside and got to his feet. Andrew walked up to him and caught Neil's chin in his hand. He tilted Neil's head ever so slightly, observed him carefully.

"Can you hear that?" Andrew asked calmly.

Neil listened, hearing only the slightly static-like sound of _nothing_ filter in and out of the room. Then, behind it, the shuffling of feet on tarmac.

"There's someone out there?" Neil asked, eyes darting to the window.

Andrew slipped two fingers up to Neil's lips and pressed down, shushing him.

"Tell me," Andrew whispered, "Exactly who you think is out there,"

"My father," Neil answered at once, "And probably others too - Lola Malcolm for sure. Maybe Patrick DiMaccio?"

Andrew nodded and pulled out his tablet. Neil waited, half of him wanting to go look out of the window and confirm his fears, the other half rooted to the spot by fear.

"Relax," Andrew told him without looking up from the screen, "It's not like they can kill you,"

"What _can_ they do?" Neil asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

"Keep you here, in the void, until you forget who you are? Keep you here, so that you can never move on?" Andrew suggested, though his tone was flippant as if he thought it would never happen.

"Can they-" Neil paused, raising his hand to his scarred cheek, "Can they hurt me?"

"They can try," Andrew muttered, swiping his finger across the tablet screen so that it dimmed to black.

Something fierce and hot sparked to life in Neil's chest. Despite his fear, he felt himself smiling.

"What?" Andrew asked when he noticed.

"Nothing," Neil replied, shaking his head, "I just- I really wish we'd had a chance to meet. When we were alive,"

"I don't," Andrew said, "I wouldn't have liked you,"

"I think we could have helped each other,"

"I don't help anyone for free,"

"What do you call this?"

"Just doing my job,"

"Well, whatever the case, I appreciate it,"

"Has death made you stupid?"

Neil gave a hollow laugh and then stilled, hoping he hadn't been heard. Andrew rolled his eyes and then slowly approached the window, nodding at Neil to follow his lead. They stood at either side of it and peered round. Neil hoped the shadows would cloak them.

There were three figures standing in the middle of the road.

In the violet haze of the mist they were swaying slightly, as if caught on a breeze. It was actually quite spooky, Neil thought. Heads down, feet shuffling against the tarmac, Neil couldn't see the details of their features, but he would still recognise them anywhere. Lola Malcolm, Patrick DiMaccio, and between them, his father, Nathan Wesninski.

He swallowed, and glanced at Andrew, who was once again studying the targets marking Neil's neck. When Neil caught him looking, Andrew raised three fingers. Neil understood what he was saying - three targets, three figures on the road. Three people who had ruined their own afterlives just for the chance to make him hurt again. If it weren't so bone-chilling Neil would almost be impressed by their determination.

"If you could, would you get rid of them? Forever?" Andrew asked him suddenly.

Neil studied the figures who were waiting for them in the street. As it had been in life, his eyes were reluctantly drawn to his father. Stood there, like that, Nathan Wesninski didn't feel as dangerous to Neil. It looked like his father had stepped out of the room and left a shadow in his place. He looked like he could be knocked down with a feather. He was a smudged, hushed version of himself, half-cracked by lingering in the void, lost in a rage that transcended life and death. Neil suppressed a shudder. He shouldn't underestimate this version of the Butcher of Baltimore. He knew what the soul in the centre was capable of.

"In a heartbeat," Neil replied.

"It means no mercy," Andrew said, raising his eyebrows pointedly, "It means being lost to the void for always, and it can't be reversed,"

"They're lost already," Neil countered, "And they'd show me none of this mercy you're referring to,"

"True," Andrew agreed, "They would tear you to pieces,"

"What are you suggesting?" Neil asked, rubbing his lips together.

"I was given this knife when I started the job," Andrew explained, pulling it out from where it was sheathed at his forearm, "It was crafted to destroy corrupted, broken souls, ones that can't be ferried, ones that make the journey difficult for others,"

"What does it do?"

"Extinguishes them, like a flame,"

"Do you use it?"

"Sometimes, when a soul is too far gone"

"Are _they_ too far gone?"

"Do you care?"

"No,"

"Good,"

"Would you use it on them?"

"In a heartbeat," Andrew replied, mimicking the words Neil had spoken only moments ago.

As Neil opened his mouth to reply, Andrew raised a hand to Neil's face, letting it hover there, millimetres away from the skin. He locked his eyes with Neil's, his hazel eyes questioning. Neil blinked, nodded, and Andrew rested his finger-tips on the scars that adorned Neil's cheek.

"They hurt you?" Andrew murmured, his eyes suddenly blank, blurred.

"Didn't you read about it?" Neil asked in lieu of an answer, "On your magical tablet?"

Andrew huffed a breath through his nose and withdrew his hand.

"We should go," Andrew said, gaze cutting towards the window once more, before heading for the door.

"What do you need me to do?" Neil asked as he followed.

"Stay out of the way,"

"That'll be easy. What about you?"

Andrew didn't reply and slinked towards the main door, moving in tandem with the dark. Neil watched and wondered.

"Just stay here," Andrew whispered, "Your presence will only get them riled,"

"But-" Neil began to protest.

"Shut up," Andrew interrupted, "Get down,"

With that, he left the house in one quick, fluid motion, securing the door behind him. Neil ran up to the door and watched through the diamond-shaped window.

Andrew approached DiMaccio first, swinging the knife upwards and cutting through the huge man's middle with one stroke. DiMaccio shuddered once, and then faded into nothing, a violent crimson residue left behind on the ground where he'd been standing. The execution was swift, but got Lola and Nathan's attention. They both jolted upright, spines straightening, and headed straight for Andrew. Neil grabbed the door handle and tried to open it, but Andrew had locked him inside. He cursed under his breath, but was unable to look away.

Nathan reached out with twisted hands to grab Andrew but Andrew dodged his jerky movements by stepping backwards easily. Lola was a little quicker than Nathan and clawed at Andrew with her fingers. Neil took in a sharp breath when one of her nails collided with Andrew's cheek, but Andrew just looked bored and unaffected. He stabbed the knife into Lola's neck and she too disappeared, a dark, rainbow hue spilling across the tarmac, like an oil spot on a wet day.

As she vanished, Nathan came up behind Andrew and attempted to grab him. Andrew's arm lunged backwards and sank deep into the pit of Nathan's stomach. As he began to fall, he too dissolved into nothingness. An inky black pattern was etched into the ground, a wing of black feathers. It had seemed so... _easy_. If only things had been that simple in real life, Neil thought bitterly.

Neil swallowed as he watched Andrew methodically take a picture of each piece of residue on the tablet, before putting it back into his pocket and walking back towards the house.

Andrew walked up the path, the purple streetlights illuminating his face, which was cut from Lola's nail, and the moon shining bright behind him. He looked like he could tear apart the entire world just to get them both to where they needed to be, and Neil felt a strange feeling coil up tight inside him. He didn't move as Andrew opened the door.

"We should go," Andrew said, before Neil could even begin to say anything.

"That was incredible," Neil said as he followed Andrew down the path.

Andrew didn't reply and they lapsed into silence. As they had done the day before, they walked down countless abandoned streets, cut across parking lots. Neil followed as Andrew jumped over chain-link fences, took short-cuts through empty, half-demolished buildings. Occasionally he would take out the tablet, check the route, signal for Neil to head a different way. Then, they would settle in for the night in an old, dusty house. This continued for days.

"How far away is this other place, anyway?" Neil asked, for what he felt was the twentieth time that evening.

"This place shifts around," Andrew said, annoyed, "Sometimes it takes longer than it should,"

"How long did it take you to get there?" Neil asked.

Andrew sighed, and Neil thought he was going to tell him to mind his own business.

Then, "I never got there,"

"They made you start doing this immediately?" Neil repeated

"Yeah," Andrew replied with a shrug, "I wasn't met by someone like me, someone who ferries souls. I was met by a gatekeeper, a dealmaker. They offered me the knife, or one thousand souls ferried,"

"The knife? As in-" Neil said, a sickening feeling rolling over him like a wave, "To make you disappear, turn you into nothing but a mark on the floor?"

"Don't be melodramatic," Andrew said, rolling his eyes, "I took the deal,"

"Still," Neil replied quietly, before trailing off. The thought of Andrew being cut down, fading away into dust, was not a peaceful thought.

"I told you," Andrew said, shifting on his mattress so that he was facing Neil, "I did a bad thing. They wanted to punish me. It was only my reasoning that got me this deal in the end,"

"What was your reasoning?"

"Oh, Neil, you do _not_ want to go there,"

"Why not?"

"Because,"

"Maybe I want to know more about you,"

"Why?"

"Because I'm interested,"

Andrew sighed.

"Let's just say that there was someone who was hurting somebody who I'd sworn to protect. I warned them, and they ignored it, continued to inflict damage. So the next time they climbed into a car with me, I made sure they wouldn't be getting out of it again,"

"You caused the accident that you died in,"

"Very perceptive,"

"Who was it?"

"My mother,"

"And who were they hurting?"

"My brother- my twin brother, who I didn't even _know_ about, thanks to her splitting us up from birth. Like I say, she only knew how to inflict damage,"

"You don't regret it?"

"Would you regret it?"

"No, but then, I've never been close enough to someone to want to protect them like that,"

"No?"

"No, but I imagine I wouldn't have reacted well to them being harmed, if there had been someone,"

Someone to care about, to protect, Neil hadn't had that. He'd never let himself get too close. He was always a boy running, a flammable boy, a boy made up of false names and pretty lies. If he'd found someone - someone to share his burdens with, someone to look after him, be looked after in return, would things have been any different? Would he have known peace? Would he have had a long, happy life? The very idea seemed as impossible to him in death as it had in life.

Andrew watched him carefully, watching him sift through his racing thoughts, before shrugging, as if to say, 'who knows?'

Neil offered him a small smile in response.

"How many souls do you have left?" He asked, changing the subject slightly.

"Eight hundred and eighty-one," Andrew replied, his voice dark.

"Then what?" Neil asked.

"I don't know," Andrew responded, turning round to sleep, "You'll see first,"

The next day was more of the same, at first. Empty streets and abandoned theatres, hospitals, libraries. Permanent night-time, the moon changing faces, the sky shifting from electric blue to deep indigo to neon pink and then to blackest black. A city skyline in the distance, glittering stars. No sound but the breeze. Occasionally music, faint and soft. The smoke from Andrew's cigarette at the back of Neil's throat and in the night sky, a plume of white. Graffiti and road signs, wires sloping overhead. Hallways and tunnels, endless and empty.

Then, the sea.

"That's different," Neil stated, the sound of waves crashing hitting him like a physical weight. He felt like he might fall to his knees, never get back up.

"That means we're nearly there," Andrew told him, gritting his teeth, "Can you feel it? Stay close,"

"Why?" Neil wondered aloud, his eyes drawn to the water, phosphorescent orbs of every colour shooting through it like fireworks.

"Just don't fall in, okay?" Andrew ordered, voice slick with irritation.

They continued on the cliff edge until they reached a cave. Once they had made their way inside, the roar of the sea hushed to a dull hum. Eventually, it became deadly silent. At first, Neil thought the walls were closing in, but it seemed the further they got, the narrower the cave became. Eventually, they both had to crawl on their hands and knees. This lasted for what seemed like hours.

When they eventually got to the end of the crawl space, they ended up in an enclosed room. It was completely illuminated by a glow as pale and pearly as moonlight, coming from the tiny crystals clinging to the cave walls. There was just enough room for them to stand, but doing so meant they were pressed up close together. Andrew turned to face him, and all lit up like that, as close together as they were, Neil could almost count the eyelashes surrounding his honey-soaked eyes, could almost map out the lightly-coloured freckles that were littered across his nose (they'd been invisible up until now). Andrew studied him closely, his expression almost bothered by what he found.

"What?" Neil found himself asking, nonplussed. It wasn't his fault they'd ended up in such a tiny space. He didn't really understand why he was being glared at.

"Nothing," Andrew said, his gaze still fierce, "You're hopeless,"

Neil didn't really understood what he'd done, but shrugged.

Andrew relaxed all of a sudden, letting the tension roll off him in one giant wave. Despite the closeness between them making the movements slightly awkward, he pulled out his tablet and tapped at the screen. Neil waited patiently. There was nowhere to go from here. He supposed they'd made it to the end of their long walk. He'd officially been ferried to the afterlife.

Andrew tapped at the screen twice and a loud, cheery chime rang out, which caused him to roll his eyes. If he hadn't just been overcome by a sudden and inexplicable melancholy when he'd thought about them reaching the end of their journey, Neil might have laughed.

The cave wall disappeared in the space of a blink, and they were then standing in a large, long hall. A woman in a suit stood at the end of it, tapping her foot. When they approached her, she held out her hand. Andrew turned over the tablet and she swiped at the screen.

"This will only count as one," She told him, without looking up, "The other three were almost gone as it was,"

"Like I didn't know that," Andrew replied drily.

"Less of the cheek," She scolded, as she passed him back the tablet, "You can go if you want,"

She switched her attention to Neil and smiled. Neil didn't smile back and turned to Andrew to say thanks, goodbye, _something_. To his surprise, Andrew wasn't moving.

"Let's see what we have here," The woman said, pulling out her own tablet. She read through what looked like pages and pages of notes.

"Not great, but not terrible either," She muttered, "Let's take a look at your alternate paths,"

"What does that mean?" Neil asked Andrew.

"She's going to take a look at all your possible lives," Andrew explained, as if it were the most boring thing in the world, "See how different choices would have affected your life, see if every incarnation of you was an asshole, that kind of thing,"

Neil frowned. He was suddenly worried. In his opinion, things could have gone a _lot_ worse in other potential versions of his life. He didn't really like to think about it.

"Isn't it all just, I don't know, circumstance?" Neil asked.

Just as Andrew was about to reply, the woman let out a cry of glee.

"You would _not_ believe this, Andrew," She said excitedly, "In another life you two would have _met_ ,"

"What?" Neil asked.

"Yes, if things had gone a little differently, you two would have crossed paths," She went on, "In fact, not only would you have crossed paths, you would have been _together_ ,"

"What do you mean, 'together'?" Neil asked, "Like, living together?"

"Oh, Neil," The woman said through laughter, "I mean like _in love_ together. I mean like at peace and _healed_ together. In one alternate version of life, you two were happy, and died of old age. Isn't that sweet?"

"Shut up," Andrew bit out, and Neil wasn't sure whether it was because Andrew hated the idea of what she was saying, or because the woman was messing with them, but Andrew sounded like he was about ready to pull a knife on her.

Neil turned to look at Andrew, and remembered how they'd stared at each other at the end of the cave, surrounded by all those crystals. And then he remembered how Andrew had a tablet of his own, had read all about how Neil had died.

"Did you know that?" Neil questioned him, "About what she just said?"

"I didn't look," Andrew snapped, sliding a glare towards Neil, "Those alternate paths are stupid. They never happened. Why should it matter?"

"Because-" Neil began, although he wasn't sure either, "That means that in another life, we found each other, and-"

Neil stopped talking. He didn't even know what he was trying to say.

"How touching," The woman said, tucking her tablet away and wiping away a few tears of mirth, "But he's right. Who cares? Neil, you can move on to the other place. Andrew, you still owe me about eight hundred and eighty souls, so get moving,"

"Wait-" Neil said, as she began to dismiss them, "You're right, it doesn't really matter that we found each other in another life, but- you found me. You found me _after_ life, and you led me here, and that's-"

"His job," The woman said, narrowing her eyes at Neil.

"I _know_ ," Neil snapped, frustrated, "But it also felt like-"

"Like what?" Andrew asked, and he wasn't annoyed, Neil realised. He was genuinely curious.

"It felt like you'd always have my back, and that I'd always have yours," Neil finished quietly, "Like I _knew_ you, in a place beyond everything else,"

He watched as Andrew swallowed, slow and steady, and he _knew_. What the woman had said had been true. In another life they'd cared for each other. In another life Neil had been true, and Andrew had known peace, and they'd _loved_.

That life hadn't happened, but death had. And death had brought them together for a reason, Neil was sure of it.

"Are you a dealmaker?" Neil asked the woman, which immediately piqued her interest.

"I can be," She answered coyly, shooting Neil a sweet smile, "What are you proposing?"

"You said eight hundred and eighty souls," Neil said, "I'm proposing we split it - I'll do four hundred and forty and Andrew will do the other four hundred and forty, and then we move on to the other place together,"

"And what do I get out of that deal?" She responded.

"How about I don't turn you into a scorch mark on this ancient-ass floor?" Andrew threatened, easily sliding the knife out from its sheath, "You gatekeepers don't get these, do you?"

She stilled, and eyed the knife with caution.

"Well," She said, her voice suddenly thick with fear, "I _am_ a hopeless romantic after all. Your proposal sounds delightful,"

She reached out and slid her hand around Neil's. Her skin was cold and smooth, like a snake's.

"The deal is done," She said, flashing him a grin and shaking his hand, "See you in a few decades, boys,"

With that, she disappeared.

Andrew sighed and looked at Neil.

"I hope you didn't just do something really stupid," Andrew said to him.

"I guess we'll find out," Neil replied with a shrug.

They turned and walked back to the end of the hallway. There were two tables at the end of it that hadn't been there before. On one sat a silver tablet, and on the other was a shining knife. Neil picked up both. As he did, two doorways appeared and swung open. Light flooded into the hallway.

"We might not see each other for a while," Andrew murmured, the shimmering light playing tricks with his hair, turning it ghost-like, starry.

"We can meet in the middle," Neil promised, "And when we're done, we move on to the other place together,"

Andrew nodded, his expression softening. It was the most he'd let his guard down since he had met Neil, and for a second, Neil wanted to reach out and touch him. He didn't. After all, they had all the time in the world to figure things out. Neil returned the nod, and then they each stepped forward, through a doorway.

Neil smiled.

 _Have a nice afterlife_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/rbonallie/my-hearts-buried-in-the-junkyard/) for this fic
> 
> title from earthbound by the accidentals


End file.
